


Candle On the Water

by myladyriver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Safety and Sexiness, mid-war love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:57:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2036328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myladyriver/pseuds/myladyriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione steeled herself for whatever she was about to be faced with, schooling her expression into a mask of aloof strength. However, that careful façade was thrown out the window the moment she opened her front door to see Bellatrix Lestrange standing on her front porch. Hermione just stood there for a moment, uncharacteristically too shocked for either action or words, simply taking in the woman before her. This was not the Bellatrix that Hermione had fought at the Ministry, it was not the Bellatrix who had tortured Hermione at Malfoy Manor, nor was it the Bellatrix who had deliberately avoided Hermione the last time their two sides had clashed, in order to spare the younger witch. It wasn’t even the Bellatrix who had spent several glorious night with Hermione, intimately exploring each other with both incredibly fervent passion and surprisingly gentle slowness. No, this was a side of the powerful, dark witch that the younger woman had never seen before.<br/>Bellatrix was, to put it simply, a mess, one that caused Hermione’s heart to fracture in her chest, despite her best efforts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candle On the Water

**Author's Note:**

> So this is actually the start of the Bellamione fics I have on here, it's set before all of the others except for the first one I posted, and it was a huge oversight on my part that I'm posting it so far out of order. Oops. Hope this fills in some missing pieces for you guys.  
> (Title is the name of my favorite song from Pete's Dragon. Helen Reddy, man.)

 

Hermione was lying comfortably in bed, her wavy caramel brown hair pulled up into a messy bun and her reading glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. She was paging through _Hogwarts: A History_ , though she had long since memorized the well-loved book. It was a comfort mechanism for the woman more than anything, reminding her of the fearless, innocent girl who had attended Hogwarts, and had always known all the answers. Since she was ready for bed, she wore only her short, sleeveless vermillion nightdress. Because of this, when her doorbell buzzed -- twice, in quick succession -- Hermione sighed tiredly and slipped on her soft blue robe. As her warm feet made contact with her chilly hard wood floor, she wondered who on earth would come calling this late. _Whoever it is, at this hour it can’t be good news._ She grabbed her wand, slipping it into the pocket of her robe.

Hermione steeled herself for whatever she was about to be faced with, schooling her expression into a mask of aloof strength. However, that careful façade was thrown out the window the moment she opened her front door to see Bellatrix Lestrange standing on her front porch. Hermione just stood there for a moment, uncharacteristically too shocked for either action or words, simply taking in the woman before her. This was not the Bellatrix that Hermione had fought at the Ministry, it was not the Bellatrix who had tortured Hermione at Malfoy Manor, nor was it the Bellatrix who had deliberately avoided Hermione the last time their two sides had clashed, in order to spare the younger witch. It wasn’t even the Bellatrix who had spent several glorious night with Hermione, intimately exploring each other with both incredibly fervent passion and surprisingly gentle slowness. No, this was a side of the powerful, dark witch that the younger woman had never seen before.

Bellatrix was, to put it simply, a mess, one that caused Hermione’s heart to fracture in her chest, despite her best efforts. Her black corset dress, which was somehow always in perfect condition, was tattered, bloodied, and had large slashes cut through it. Her thick, curly dark hair hung in tendrils around her face, tumbling over her shoulders and falling down her back, completely unrestrained. Her pale skin was smeared with a combination of sooty grime and blood. _Hers?_ Hermione questioned, fear clawing at her stomach. Still, Bellatrix had not moved, allowing Hermione a minute to gather her thoughts. Growing impatient at being left out in the cold, Bellatrix crossed her arms over chest and scowled, stomping her foot to get Hermione’s attention.

At last propelled into action, Hermione poked her head out of her front door and furtively glanced around her dark, empty street to make sure no one had followed Bellatrix. Not meeting the dark witch’s worrisomely haunted gaze, Hermione placed her hand on Bellatrix’s back and guided her into her home, closing and locking the door behind them with a flick of her wand. Neither woman spoke as Hermione led the way into her bedroom. 

Hermione took charge of cleaning up the filthy, injured witch, without asking _why_ she was hurt, or who she had killed in the process. For her part, Bellatrix seemed to silently accept Hermione’s help, as it seemed like an almost plausible reason as to why she was here in the first place. If she were being entirely honest with herself (which was rare for the damaged witch), Bellatrix wasn’t sure why she had come to Hermione. The closest she could come to describing the feeling that had driven her here was an awful, perplexing hollowness deep in her chest. That, and an aching exhaustion in her very bones, as well as the strange, terrifying sensation of drowning, of not being able to get enough oxygen into her lungs.

It was with tremendous tenderness and patience that Hermione slowly removed Bellatrix’s soiled black dress. She untied the corset’s laces with nimble fingers, her hand running comfortingly down Bella’s smooth, bruised back before she helped the older woman slip out of the dress. Hermione paused, closing her eyes to keep her unshed tears from splashing down her cheeks. For a soft, quiet moment, she lightly rested her forehead on Bellatrix’s shoulder blade; it was then that she realized that Bellatrix was shivering. Hermione moved around Bellatrix to stand in front of her, her forehead puckering as she saw Bellatrix’s nearly bare body, the battered woman clad only in a black lace bra, matching panties, and her scuffed black combat boots. For the first time that night, Hermione met Bellatrix’s inscrutable dark eyes, and she offered up a small smile, in hope of reassuring the lost woman. The vacant, yet almost scared look in Bellatrix’s eyes frightened Hermione.

Retrieving her wand from the pocket of her robe, Hermione began murmuring healing spells, occasionally tracing her finger or wand tip over a particularly nasty cut. Thankfully, all of Bellatrix’s wounds were fairly minor. Nothing required any of the more complex healing spells, other than a broken rib, which Hermione knit back together with softly crooned words and repeated wand motions. The two women stood in the middle of Hermione’s bedroom while the younger witch put the older one back together, every touch holding a new tenderness, every whisper especially careful. And other than Hermione’s spells, neither of them spoke a word.

When at last every scrape, gash, fracture, and bruise that had marred Bellatrix’s malnourished but curvaceous body had been healed, Hermione lead Bellatrix into the adjoining master bathroom. Quickly summoning a fresh towel, Hermione went back to avoiding Bellatrix’s intense eyes -- their expression caused greater fear in her heart than she cared to admit. Fear for the woman who was now standing behind her, nearly naked. Her back still to Bellatrix, Hermione discreetly took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. She busied herself with drawing a hot bath for the newly healed woman, but soon she was out of things to do, places to look. Gathering up her nerve, she turned to face Bellatrix, who was standing in precisely the same place Hermione had left her. With no small amount of concern, Hermione noted that she had not even shifted her gaze. In fact, she doubted Bellatrix had moved at all. Clearly, the older, vulnerable witch needed more healing than could be administered with a wand.

A sad, sympathetic smile pulled at Hermione’s lips as she looked upon her enemy and her lover, both occupying the same body, sharing the same lips and the same eyes, and she suddenly realized that neither label quite fit tonight. Desperate to see even a small spark of life in those frighteningly empty eyes, Hermione shaped a smooth hand to Bellatrix’s cool cheek, her finger lightly caressing the silent woman’s jawline. After a moment, she finally spoke directly to Bellatrix.

“You don’t have to be _good_ tonight, and you don’t have to be _His_. Not now, not here...Tonight we’re not enemies, we’re not fighting a war. In here with me, all you have to be is _yourself_ , Bella,” Hermione promised slowly and with conviction, using her familiar nickname without thinking. Her hazel eyes shone with the refuge she so desperately wanted to grant the dark woman before her, and she suddenly wished for nothing more than to give Bella a feeling of peace and absolute safety. She continued to gaze into Bellatrix’s face, as if making up for lost time, and so she observed the first cracks in Bella’s unresponsive mask. Bellatrix didn’t smile, but some life returned to her eyes, and she nodded almost imperceptibly. Hermione probably wouldn’t even have noticed if it weren’t for the fact that her hand was still gently cupping Bellatrix’s face -- she felt more than saw the motion. Hermione nodded back, then lowered her hand, a faint blush coloring her cheeks when her fingertips accidentally brushed along the curve of Bella’s shoulder.

“If you’re all right here, I’m going to go make us some tea. I know I could use it, and it looks like you could, too. I’ll be back soon, I promise,” Hermione said, her tone of voice making it a question, giving Bellatrix a chance to _not_ be all right. A slight nod was her only response, but it was enough. Casting one more worried glance over her shoulder, Hermione left Bellatrix to her bath, and made her way to the kitchen.

After putting the water on to boil, Hermione slumped down against the counter, sliding to the floor. She covered her face with her hand, and discovered with a groan that she was still wearing her glasses. She also discovered that though she had remembered to put _on_ her robe, she’d forgotten to actually _tie_ it, leaving an unfortunate amount of skin exposed. _Lovely_ , she thought sarcastically. _So I’ve spent the past hour around a mostly naked Bellatrix Lestrange -- who, by the way, looks criminally fantastic,_ _even with all of her injuries -- while wearing my especially nerdy, dorky, ridiculous reading glasses, and a skimpy silk nightdress. Way to go, Granger...And now you’re caring what a sodding_ Death Eater _thinks of you. I’d say the glasses are the least of your problems._ Be that as it may, Hermione quickly removed them, setting them on her counter top as she stood back up, startled by the sound of the whistling tea kettle.

Hermione tied her robe and focused on her breathing, trying to regain her composure. She poured the hot water over their tea bags with more care than the task really called for, her hands shaking. Scolding herself for letting Bellatrix get to her, Hermione firmly gripped their mugs of steaming tea and made her way back to her bedroom. She stood outside of the mostly closed bathroom door, suddenly unsure whether she should enter, or wait for Bellatrix to finish her bath. Hermione peered into her bathroom, and saw Bellatrix lying in the bathtub with her eyes closed. She also saw Bella’s black undergarments sitting atop the towel Hermione had laid out, though luckily the suds in the water hid the majority of Bellatrix’s body. Still, the simple vision of beauty and near peace caused a shiver of desire and affection to run through Hermione, almost bringing her to her knees with its force.

Not bothering to open her eyes, Bellatrix motioned for Hermione to come in, clearly able to feel her presence so close by. Hermione took a steadying breath, and pushed open the bathroom, making her way over to Bellatrix. She knelt on the bath mat beside the tub, and set their mugs on the floor, all the while trying not to stare too openly at the exquisite woman who was stretched out, entirely nude, only a few feet away. The uppermost swell of Bella’s breasts were just visible at the water line, and her knees were bent, protruding from the water. As Hermione was beginning to realize was her luck, Bellatrix decided to open her eyes and look at Hermione, just as the younger woman’s eyes were tracing the delicate line of Bella’s collar bone. Bellatrix met her eyes levelly, though for once it wasn’t a challenge, her unassuming but unceasing gaze making Hermione blush. Again. After a long moment of studying each other’s expressions, Hermione silently held out a mug a of tea, offering it to Bella, who took it wordlessly.

The two women sat in comfortable silence, both sipping their tea slowly, and both secretly finding great solace in the other’s company. It was half an hour before either of them spoke.

“You have a...charming home. Your bathtub is too small,” Bellatrix said quietly, gesturing at her knees, which weren’t submerged in the hot water, “but your house is nice.” Bella’s voice was still low and a little rough, but she used a voice that Hermione had come to know was reserved for her. It was a little softer, a little more patient, and much kinder. Hermione also knew that her praise was Bellatrix’s way of showing gratitude.

“Thank you,” Hermione replied, as Bella lowered her eyes to take a drink of her tea. “And sorry about the tub,” she said with a small smile. She knew the affluent pureblood was used to bathtubs the size of small swimming pools.

“Yes, well...” Bella shrugged, wincing slightly. Hermione frowned in worry.

“Does your shoulder still hurt?” she asked, giving Bellatrix a look that cautioned strongly against lying. Bella’s shoulder had been dislocated, and though Hermione had fixed it, it was common for there to be some residual pain. Bellatrix nodded reluctantly.

“Could you...wash my back? I can’t reach,” Bella admitted uncomfortably. Hermione nodded, impressed, knowing how much it must’ve cost the proud witch to ask for help.

“Of course,” she answered simply, not wanting to further humiliate Bellatrix. Hermione politely averted her gaze as Bella rose out of the water to turn in the tub, some thing Bellatrix noticed and smirked at, clearly finding the younger witch’s actions amusing.

“Nothing you haven’t seen, luv,” Bellatrix reminded, her husky voice clearly taunting.The soap suds clung to her milky skin as she settled back into the water, her back now to Hermione, who rolled her eyes at Bella’s teasing. However, the view she was presented with -- that of Bella’s exposed shoulders and back -- was not conducive to blocking the memories of their previous nights spent together.

Hermione picked up the wash cloth that rested on the edge of the tub, and dipped it in the tub before coating it with soap. She methodically squeezed some of the water out of it before starting on Bellatrix’s back. Being as careful as she could so as to not hurt Bella’s injured shoulder, Hermione ran the washcloth gently over Bellatrix’s gracile back, cleansing her of the remaining blood and grime. Hermione had to remind herself yet again to not push Bellatrix, to not ask her what exactly happened tonight. Instead, she spent the next fifteen minutes washing and lightly massaging the older woman’s back. Hermione gently laid her wet, soapy hand on Bella’s bony shoulder, letting her fingers trail lightly down the woman’s spine. By the time she was finished, the washcloth had been all but forgotten. Finally, she could draw it out no longer, and settled her hands in her lap, ignoring the fact that she was getting her robe damp.

“Come on, Bella,” Hermione sighed. “Rinse off, then get out of the bath and get dry. I’ll be back in a moment after I grab something for you to put on,” she instructed, her knees protesting as she rose to her feet after kneeling for so long.

“Why can’t I put on _my_ dress?” Bellatrix pouted, still lounging in the bathtub.

“ _Because_ it’s filthy, bloody, and all torn up,” Hermione responded exasperatedly.

“Fine,” Bella conceded, her chin jutting out defiantly. Hermione just shook her head, and went into her bedroom to find something for Bella to wear. After several minutes of deliberation, she decided on a simple black nightdress. It was longer than the one Hermione wore, fitted, and made of silk covered by a second layer of fine lace. Hermione also grabbed a clean pair of panties, then returned to the bathroom, not bothering to linger hesitantly outside this time. She almost wished she had, though. Almost.

Bellatrix looked up as Hermione entered the bathroom, a black nightdress draped over one arm. Never one to be very modest, Bellatrix didn’t rush to cover up, and continued to towel dry her waterlogged raven tresses, leaving the rest of her body entirely uncovered. Bella bit back a laugh as she enjoyed Hermione’s reaction to her bare body. The young woman’s intelligent hazel eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks flaming, and after a long moment of shocked silence, she hastily raised her eyes to the ceiling. Though she was successful in keeping from laughing at her outright, Bellatrix couldn’t help the amusement that was etched into her gaunt face.

As Hermione looked tentatively back at Bellatrix, careful to keep her eyes only the woman’s face, she noticed the humor sparkling in Bella’s dark eyes. Hermione’s instinct was to scowl at being laughed at (for though Bella was silent, her eyes were indeed laughing), but there was something in Bellatrix’s expression that kept her from doing so. Hermione suddenly wondered if she had ever seen the dark witch smile with any amount of sincerity. Oh, she would grin in a moment of insanity in the middle of a duel, and she would smirk with haughty confidence, but she never truly _smiled_. So instead of glaring at the entertained witch, she merely smiled and handed Bellatrix the clothing. Bellatrix quirked an eyebrow, silently questioning Hermione’s change of attitude and abruptly calmer demeanor. There was no answer, so she took the clothes, easily slipping on the panties, but struggling slightly with the nightdress. As much as she hated to admit it, her shoulder still hurt when she moved, so she was having a difficult time of maneuvering herself into the dress. She had managed to get the nightdress up around her waist, but was unable to get it up any further, or get the straps over her shoulders. Bellatrix growled in irritation, and Hermione decided to intervene before Bella shredded her nightdress out of sheer vexation.

“Here, let me,” Hermione said patiently, running her hands down the length of Bella’s arms in an attempt to soothe her movements, which she could see were hurting her. Bellatrix was uncharacteristically compliant, and stilled beneath Hermione’s hands. As Hermione moved to stand behind Bellatrix, it was only with the greatest effort that she kept herself from kissing along Bella’s deliciously exposed shoulders and neck. Instead, she slipped her arms around Bella’s waist and slowly pulled the nightdress up the older woman’s slender torso, the silken fabric sliding easily against Bellatrix’s warm skin. Hermione felt Bellatrix lean back against her body, which was pressed fairly close to be Bella’s, it was true. She shuddered slightly at the contact, longing to pull Bella closer still. _Bloody nightgown_ , she cursed in annoyance. Though Hermione was as careful as possible when tugging the nightdress further up Bellatrix’s body, her hands accidentally grazed the underside of Bellatrix’s breasts, causing Bella to jump, a quiet gasp escaping from her parted lips.

“Sorry,” Hermione muttered, her hands now trembling, her neck flushing with both embarrassment and desire. Bellatrix didn’t trust her voice; she knew that if she spoke, her voice would be husky with arousal, so she remained silent. Hermione gently guided her arms through the armholes, then stepped back, knowing she needed to put space between her and the freshly washed woman in front of her, lest she act upon her deep and nearly overpowering want for her.

There was a long pause before Bellatrix turned around, and when she did, the expression on her usually guarded face stunned the younger woman. She looked... _hungry_. Bella’s eyes were dark with excitement, her lips slightly parted, and she slowly advanced toward Hermione, pushing her back against the wall with strong but surprisingly gentle hands. Bellatrix gazed deeply into Hermione’s gold-flecked eyes, trying to discern if she wanted this, surprising herself by actually caring as much as she did. She bit her lip to hide a smirk, satisfied with what she found in the depths of the younger witch’s eyes, and without any more hesitation, she brought her lips to Hermione’s and kissed her. Bellatrix started out softly exploring the other woman’s lips, as if it were the very first time they had kissed. She took her time, but before too long, she traced her tongue teasingly over Hermione’s lower lip, and began kissing her more thoroughly when her lips parted with near desperation. Hermione moaned longingly into Bella’s mouth, prompting Bellatrix to push her more firmly against the wall, her leg slipping in between Hermione’s. Her hands grasped both of Hermione’s wrists and lifted them above her head, pinning them to the wall with one hand while the other returned to run up and down Hermione’s side, finally caressing her breasts through her silk nightdress. At this, Hermione squirmed, trying to release her hands from Bella’s grip. Bellatrix allowed it, hungry for the feeling of Hermione’s hands on her once again.

With great relief and a thrill of excitement, Hermione slid her hands up and down Bella’s back, one hand finding purchase on her bum while the other worked its way into her mess of black curls, tugging slightly. The dual actions made Bellatrix’s legs quake, and in response, she lightly scraped her fingernails with aching slowness over Hermione’s breasts, which were still covered by her nightdress. Bellatrix growled in frustration for the second time that night, and Hermione laughed quietly, kissing Bella’s throat before burying her face in the older woman’s warm neck. She wrapped her arms more tightly around Bella’s middle, still nuzzling the juncture between her shoulder and her neck. Sensing a change, Bellatrix moved her own hands to Hermione’s waist, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

“’Mione?” she asked, her voice rough from their shared passions. Still firmly attached to her, her lips at the base of her throat, Hermione replied, her words slightly muffled.

“Not tonight, Bella.” Bellatrix’s initial response was to shove the clinging woman away, but _this was not just_ any _woman_ , she reminded herself. After a second, she recognized the crushing sensation in her chest as hurt, hurt at being...rejected? It was a foreign feeling, and took her a moment to identify. She was silent for awhile, quietly working on pressing back this new ‘hurt,’ and going over the past several minutes, trying to figure out _why_. She replayed Hermione’s words in her head, and suddenly found a scintilla of hope. _Not_ tonight _, she said. She didn’t say not ever, she didn’t say she didn’t want me, she just said, not tonight,_ Bellatrix mused. She almost laughed out loud, knowing that this was precisely the insecurity she found pathetic in others. However, she managed to keep from actually laughing aloud, knowing it would only confuse, and possibly upset, Hermione. _Since when do I give a shit about what other people think?_ Bellatrix wondered, briefly disgusted with how soft she was growing around this woman. She decided to give it up, to stop questioning it, at least for tonight. _All you have to be is_ yourself _, she said_ , Bellatrix thought. _If only I was more sure about what in the bloody hell that meant_.

“All right,” she responded at last, kissing Hermione’s smooth cheek as she pulled back. When Hermione looked searchingly into Bella’s face, she saw an uncertainty there that was unfamiliar to both women. It was another drawn out moment before Hermione spoke.

“You’ll stay the night?” she asked, her eyes welcoming. Bellatrix couldn’t be sure, couldn’t quite believe it to be so, but it almost sounded like Hermione hoped that she _would_ stay.

“Yes,” she replied simply. Hermione nodded, as if it were what she had expected, and made her way back into her bedroom, her hand finding Bella’s somewhere along the way. Bellatrix was surprised when she found her bony hand being held by Hermione’s soft one, but didn’t ask any questions in case it made Hermione withdraw her hand, and followed her into the bedroom.

Exhausted after a long, confusing, and emotionally draining night, Hermione gratefully climbed into her large bed, peeling back the covers. After a second’s hesitation, Bella walked around the other side of the bed and slid in beside Hermione. She peered over at the younger witch, who was busy turning off the lights with her wand, and permitted herself a small smile. _She really is a spectacular creature_ , she thought to herself. _The brightest witch of her age, and ever so pretty_... _and ever so kind. So much kinder to me than she has any reason to be_. As if to prove her point, Hermione said,

“I won’t pretend to know why you came to me tonight, Bella, but I’m glad you did. I hope you know that you will always have a safe place with me.” Her words were spoken softly and with such sincerity that Bellatrix felt her chest constrict with emotion.

“Thank you,” Bella breathed. Both women wondered silently to themselves when Bellatrix had last said those words, to anyone. They settled into bed, shifting pillows and pulling at blankets as they got comfortable. At last, they found a satisfactory position. They both lay on their stomachs, with Hermione’s arm draped over Bella’s back, their legs lying against each others, and Hermione’s face tucked against Bellatrix’s shoulder. To the casual observer, it would appear as if they had been doing this for years. And indeed, for the remainder of the Second Wizarding War, Bellatrix would show up at Hermione’s door unexpectedly. Hermione would always take her in, and for the night, they would put aside the fact that they were fighting on opposite sides of the war, and find comfort in each other.

 


End file.
